


The Frog Prince

by KelpieChaos



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, POV Alternating, feel free to guess who each animal Akira meets is, hopefully I made them recognizable enough, inspired by the Russian Frog Princess folk tale, it's a fight scene but it's not like...graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpieChaos/pseuds/KelpieChaos
Summary: His consort awaited wherever his arrow landed. There he’d find whoever he had to marry to fulfill the wishes of his father, the king. Akira just hoped they weren’t ugly.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	The Frog Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friends for helping make quite a few decisions in this when I couldn’t decide them myself, and I’m sorry this took so long <3

As Prince, it was Akira’s duty to marry, and marry well. He was well into his adulthood, and far old enough that he was expected to have found someone to eventually rule with. One of the neighboring kingdom’s princesses, to join their kingdoms. Or one of their own lord’s sons, to strengthen their loyalties.

Unfortunately, Akira thought all the eligible nobles were boring, annoying, and asshats. He’d been turning down hands and offers for years. A wink here, a smirk there, a small pitying glance from under lowered lashes everywhere, and the most recent inquirer would back away, more infatuated than ever but respectful enough of his decision. Usually. Sometimes he did have to prove that even though his words were pretty, he did, in fact, know how to use the knife he kept at his waist. A ceremonial dagger, sure, but a sharp one still.

But his father was getting impatient.

King Sojiro had adopted him long ago to keep his daughter company. He’d lived on the street ever since his parents had thrown him out for shaming them, and he’d just happened to find a sobbing little girl hiding in the alleyway one day and helped her back to the palace. Princess Futaba had been a shy child, but she’d warmed quickly to his dirty silliness. Apparently, she’d immediately gone on the warpath to convince the King to adopt him, and here he was, years later, a prince.

A prince not doing his duty, according to the King.

Hence sitting on his favorite horse on the tallest hill in the capitol. With a bow and arrow. How the arrow was going to just magically find him the perfect consort, he didn’t know. It was just a normal arrow. The bow was more impressive. It was a ceremonial bow, carved with flowers and doves. He’d seen it in the armory a few times, kept separate from the other bows. It only ever left the armory for this purpose, when the young prince (or princess, as history told) was being obstinate about getting married. At least, that’s how Sojiro had explained it to him.

His horse shifted, digging a hoof into the soft grass and letting out a great sigh. Sighing himself, Akira pet her bay coat. The sun had already passed its zenith, slowly dropping in the sky as he sat there. It was tempting to just camp outside for the night and head back once the sun had risen again. There were beautiful woods just a few miles from the city edge, and he’d been camping there plenty before. He could always just tell Sojiro the arrow got stuck in a tree or something. It’s not like he’d know any better.

Unless the arrow, or the bow, really was magic. And he’d be forced to marry eventually, probably to one of the useless aristocrats he’d already turned down if he couldn’t find anyone better. So really, what was the harm in letting the arrow fly? At the very least, he’d get an adventure out of it. And if the legends were true, then he’d meet the person he was destined for. Hopefully they weren’t ugly. Not that he was vain, necessarily, he just could never show his face at court again if his intended wasn’t at least passably attractive.

Cocking his arm back, he raised the arrow to the sky. Let it at least go far enough that he goes beyond the forest. He’d seen nothing beyond the common travel trails past the forest, and this was his chance to explore. Slowly, he breathed out, steadied himself on his prancing mare. Last chance to back down, to just camp out for the night and lie about the arrow’s location.

He let it fly.

Immediately, his horse leapt after it. She charged down the hill, over rocks and across rivers, wind throwing her mane into his face. He shoved the bow into her saddle holster, grabbing her reins. The arrow was still flying, rising in an arc ever higher, unencumbered by any wind. Hopes rising with it, Akira let a wild laugh trail in his wake. Maybe there really was something to the legend. He’d never seen an arrow fly so high or so true before.

They hit the forest, branches snapping as they barreled through the underbrush along well-worn trails and unbroken bushes. Flashes of the arrow broke through the trees, and he followed its path. His horse, always sure and fleet of foot, seemed to race faster and more confidently than ever before as they weaved through the trunks. Miles disappeared underneath her stride, deep forest turning into unbroken plains turning into harsh mountains. And still, the arrow flew above.

* * *

Sometimes Yusuke thought there had been a time before he was under this curse. Or was it a curse? If he’d spent his entire life like this, then perhaps he was just born this way? None of the other people he’d met changed into frogs during the day, though. Just him. Then again, many of those same people left his garden much changed in other ways, and none of them seemed any happier for having been here. Did that mean that it was a blessing, since he had been no less happy for being here as a frog than as a human?

Shaking his head, he hopped over to the pond’s edge. It reflected the clouds _just_ so, sapphire bottoms melting into the bright azure of the water while the white of the cotton tops flashed with the pearlescent colors of the small fish at the bottom of the pond. He burned to paint it, tried to memorize every detail so he could recreate it once the moon had risen. How could this be a blessing, when it got in the way of his art?

Madarame, great wizard he was, said he was working on a cure. He just needed more time. All those people that came and went freely were consultants, he said, who helped him to hone his craft and come ever closer to a solution. He just needed time.

“Yusuke!”

To think of a wizard is to call his name, and calling will bring him forth. Yusuke jumped from lily pad to lily pad, admiring how the ripples bent and ran through the sparkling water. He always met Madarame on a beautiful stone pedestal, one carved just for him. It let them converse comfortably, so Madarame need not bend so low down. Yusuke sometimes wondered if the stone couldn’t be covered with grass so he might be more comfortable as well, but it was no matter. Madarame had already done so much, protecting him in this glittering garden away from any predators that might think to consume such a small frog as he.

“Yusuke, there you are. I was wondering what took you so long.” Madarame’s voice was calm, only small notes of reproach hidden in the words. He didn’t like to be kept waiting, Yusuke knew.

“I apologize most sincerely,” he responded, pulling himself up fully onto the pedestal. The stone was hot from the sun, and he shifted in place, trying to subtly raise one foot off it, then another. “I was on the other side of the pond and did not realize you were searching for me.”

“Hmm, I’ll forgive you this time. I know how inattentive you can be when you’re admiring my garden.”

Yusuke bowed his head, in thanks and in abasement. He knew that he should pay more attention to his surroundings, but when it all glittered and shone in the sunlight, he couldn’t help but be distracted by the way the light brought the metals and jewels of the garden to life.

“Now, Yusuke, you know how I’m working to help you. But I’m an old man, and only growing older. I need more time to finish your cure. Won’t you give me just a few more years?”

A few years. It sounded like so little. But every time Madarame asked, something inside Yusuke balked at agreeing. Just a few years, but how many did he have to begin with? How many had he spent in this garden? A few years of his life could be everything to him someday. To just give them away, even to this man who’d protected him for so long, who was working to lift his curse…

“I… I’m sorry, Madarame,” he croaked, head bowing lower in shame. “I do not believe I can agree to that.”

“Well,” the old wizard sighed, “I can’t force you to give them to me, though it would greatly help in the process.” He folded his hands into his sleeves, though Yusuke could still see how a finger tapped at his arm by the shifting of the cloth. “I suppose I’ll just have to call in another consultant. If that’s all, then I must head back to mind the cauldrons.”

“Yes, Madarame, I apologize for wasting your time.” He always felt terrible; the wizard spent his precious time coming all the way out to the garden just to speak with him, provided him with shelter and supplies and hope for the end of his curse, and he never could agree to his one request in return.

Nodding, Madarame turned and left, the golden garden swallowing him as he went.

Morose now, not even the sight of the sun lighting up the emerald edges of the grass enough to raise his mood, Yusuke turned to hop down from the pedestal. The water would be cool, at least, soothing on his skin where it had dried out against the stone. Just as he settled in, shallow water dancing around his small body, an arrow pierced the ground right between his arms.

* * *

This was the strangest garden Akira had ever seen. All the trees were silver and gold, leaves carved out of emeralds and blossoming with garnet blooms. Here and there a solid gold animal would be, unmoving and silent. He was just thankful the grass seemed normal, bending softly under his footsteps despite its brilliant coloration.

He crept further, searching. The arrow had fallen somewhere around here, he was sure. Though how he was supposed to find anything alive enough to marry here, he didn’t know. Though beautiful, this garden held its breath the same as a cemetery, the air stagnant and vaguely resentful. He just wanted to grab his arrow and get out. He’d tell his father that the arrow had led to nothing, just empty treasures. Maybe that meant he was supposed to be single forever, to manage the treasury while Futaba found and wedded someone.

Yeah, that wouldn’t work. Sojiro would just think he’d camped out for a few hours and then returned with tall tales. The idea would have stung if he hadn’t thought of doing that himself earlier. So there _had_ to be someone at the end of this ridiculous adventure.

He stepped through bronze bushes into a clearing. A white stone pedestal stood next to a gleaming pond, and there, right at the water’s edge: his arrow.

His arrow…and no person.

Well, damn.

Striding forwards, he reached down to yank the arrow free.

“Is that your arrow then?”

The voice startled him, and Akira straightened, looking around for its source. It was deep, smooth: a young man’s voice. But no matter how hard he searched the bushes, there just wasn’t anyone there.

“Down here, in the water. Who are you? Were you invited by Madarame?”

Akira followed the voice, crouching down to see the water clearer. There was a little frog there, but nothing more. It was a deep green, nearly blue, and had the cutest marking on its face, like a little mask. It was sitting just by the tip of his arrow, looking up at him as he was looking down at it. There was still no one that he could see to show who spoke to him, though.

The frog opened its mouth. “Were you not taught that one should not barge in without first introducing oneself?”

Akira sat down. Fell down. He wasn’t entirely sure. The frog had just _spoken_. Real actual words that he could understand. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbed his eyes. The frog was still there. Still looking at him with a cross expression. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, hands covering his face. “You’ve got to be actually kidding me. A _frog_ is talking to me.”

“I assure you, I do not jest. You came into this garden and are now refusing to answer my, completely reasonable, questions about why you are here and who you may be.”

This was way more than he was expecting when he set out earlier. He didn’t even really want what the arrow had promised, never mind a jeweled garden with a talking frog as its only living inhabitant.

But he had wanted an adventure. Careful what you wish for and all that.

Sighing, he dropped his hands and met the frog’s gaze. It almost looked like it was frowning at him. “My name is Akira Kurusu. I was told to follow this arrow to find the one that I would marry.”

“The one you would marry?” The frog murmured, looking back at the arrow. “Since it came here, I must assume that can only mean you are meant to marry me.” It reached out to touch the wood of the arrow. “This is very fine craftsmanship. Did you make this arrow yourself?”

“I-yes. I did.” Why the frog would care, Akira couldn’t even guess. Then again, with how many ridiculous things that were happening, he might as well have found the only frog that cared about woodworking.

“Hmm.” A thoughtful look seemed to be sent his way, then the frog nodded. “My name is Yusuke Kitagawa. You may take me from this garden to wed.”

“I _what?”_ He couldn’t have heard that right. The frog wanted him to marry it? “No, no way.”

“But the arrow came to me, did it not? You said that it would show you the one you would marry.” It hopped closer, almost close enough to jump into Akira’s lap. He had to fight himself not to scramble back from it.

“You’re a _frog_. I can’t marry a frog!” The court would make a mockery of him. The _kingdom_ would make a mockery of him. The adopted prince who married a frog. He could already feel the shame in his father’s gaze.

“The arrow obviously disagrees.” The frog waved a hand at it, still stuck where it landed. “Would bringing me back with you truly be worse than returning with no one at all?”

That…was a fair point. The court would mock him either way. And at least if he brought the frog home, then he wouldn’t have to suffer any more bumbling proposals.

“I guess not.” Akira grimaced. He was really gonna do this, huh. Bring a frog home to present as his intended. “What did you say your name was again?”

The frog seemed to puff up, sitting up straighter. “I am Yusuke Kitagawa.” His voice was proud, like Akira should recognize his name.

“Yusuke, okay. Well, Yusuke, looks like you’re coming home with me then.” He snagged his arrow, dumping it in the empty quiver on his back. Standing, he looked down at the little frog. “How am I supposed to bring you safely? I rode here on a horse. It wasn’t like I was expecting to bring a frog back with me.”

“That is a good question.” Yusuke seemed just as stumped. “I must admit I do not know. I have been here for as long as I remember. I do not suppose you’d be willing to wait until nightfall?”

The idea of staying in this garden until then was horrible enough that Akira didn’t even consider why it might help.

“Absolutely not. The faster we get home, the better.”

“Well, then. Do you have a container that we might bring some water with us in?”

Akira had rode to the garden on a horse with only basic provisions. Said provisions contained a hunk of cheese and some jerky wrapped in cloth, his bow and arrows, and a leather pouch of water. They did not include a container for pond water and a frog.

Though the cloth _was_ thick and soft, and just the right size to wrap around a small frog.

“Here, help me eat this.” Akira passed Yusuke some of the cheese. “I need the cloth.”

“Are you sure? I do not wish to take from you anything you cannot spare.” The cheese was held delicately between his little hands. 

Forcing the last bit of jerky in his mouth, Akira just shook his head at the frog. He swallowed quickly, the food sticking uncomfortably in his throat for a moment. “No, go ahead. You’re going to need your strength for the trip anyway.”

“Hmm,” the frog considered the cheese, turning it in his hands. “I suppose you are correct. I appreciate your consideration.” A quick flash of tongue, and the cheese was gone. “What did you need the cloth for?”

“This.” With a grin, Akira plunged the cloth in the pond, soaking it. Carefully, he dropped the dripping cloth on top of Yusuke. It covered him completely, puddling on the ground on either side of him. “That should stop you from drying out while we travel, and I can resoak the cloth as we go. What do you think?”

Yusuke wiggled his head free of the cloth. “Ingenious!” Awe saturated the word. “Yes, this will keep me safely away from the sun and wind, while still allowing for ease of transport!” He wrapped the cloth around himself, much like how Akira used to make cloaks out of spare blankets for Futaba and himself. 

Imperious, Yusuke lifted one tiny hand. Akira scooped him up, gently making sure he wasn’t squishing him as he wrapped the cloth more securely around him. Careful of his new consort, Akira started back towards the edge of the garden. They had a long way ahead of them back to the palace.

* * *

The marriage ceremony had been awkward, to say the least. They’d made it back before the sun had set, and Sojiro had them married before dusk truly fell. The court had laughed and tittered, Akira refusing to give them even a glance to feed their mockery. Yes, he was marrying a frog. No, he hadn’t spoken in front of the others, and it wasn’t like Akira could prove he was magic or anything. For all the court knew, he was marrying a common woodland frog.

He’d almost managed to escape the ballroom, Yusuke on his shoulder, when Sojiro called out behind him.

“Where’d you think you’re going, kid? You know we’ve got traditions to do.”

Akira froze. He could feel the weight of each individual courtier’s gaze. Could feel their glee rise as Yusuke whispered - “Traditions?” - into his ear from his perch on Akira’s shoulder. Of course Sojiro wouldn’t let them get away with not doing the traditional three tasks, even with such an unconventional pairing as they.

“Come on, get back over here.”

Turning to face his father, Akira bowed his acknowledgement, careful not to tip Yusuke onto the ground. Hand over his heart, eyes lowered, back straight and standing tall, he looked every inch the obedient prince, resplendent in his red and black finery. He was stuck, and Sojiro knew it. Akira couldn’t ignore the traditions now that they’d been mentioned. Or, well, he _could_ , but then he’d have to deal with yet another round of rumors that he was failing his duties and should be replaced by Futaba as heir apparent. Neither he nor Futaba wanted that, so a dutiful prince he must be.

Approaching the throne, Akira bowed once again. Silent laughter shook his sister’s small frame where she sat to Sojiro’s left. He could see the glint of amusement in his father’s eyes. Obviously, they were enjoying how much he didn’t want to do the traditions. He stuck his tongue out at them, uncaring if any of the courtiers could see his face or not. It was a common enough occurrence, Futaba laughing at him and him sticking his tongue out in response, that no one should comment on it anyway.

Sojiro stood, the ballroom going silent. “As you know,” he started, voice loud enough to carry to the edges of the room, “our country has customs and traditions to ensure that our princes and princesses make good and strong matches in their marriages. Prince Akira left this morning to fulfill one of those traditions, and he has brought back his fate-chosen consort.” Quiet sniggers broke out, but died quickly under the glare of the King. “Fate may choose the consort, but their capabilities must be proven to the kingdom. Three tasks to be set over the next three days, so that we may see how they fare under the demands and expectations the court may place on them.”

The last part was scripted, written down and passed along with the bow through the ages. Akira stepped forwards to deliver the expected response, though normally it would be asked by the new consort. “And what is the first task you ask?” His voice was clear, ringing through the ballroom and daring anyone to comment on the impossibility of a frog completing any of the traditional tasks.

“The first task is to weave a tapestry, the finest possible by their own hands, to be presented to the court by morning. From this, we shall be able to know their ability to see the small details that decorate life and their determination to show those details accurately.” Sojiro nodded to the small frog, then sat back down.

Akira bowed a third time, accepting the dismissal for what it was.

* * *

Yusuke let Akira put him down on the table once they entered the prince’s rooms. The wood was smooth, smoother than some of the precious rocks back in Madarame’s garden. And the stain was brilliant, like the wood itself was radiating warmth even though it had long been cut down. Was this what craftsmen of the outside world were capable of? Yusuke had to admit to some admiration for their skills. It wasn’t quite to the same level as his own, but then again, he did have nature itself helping him perfect his craft. A bit of allowance could be made for those who must only work with their own hands, unable to hear what the wood and stones and water wished to become.

Shadows dancing across the table, and therefore his own skin, pulled at his attention. Akira was pacing in front of the fire, muttering to himself. Back and forth, back and forth, hands ruffling his hair and gesturing sharply in front of him. As he went, the motions got rougher, more abrupt.

“My prince?” Yusuke called. “What causes you to fret?” As far as he could see, there was nothing to worry about, except perhaps his curse. But Akira did not know of that yet. A little longer, and he’d tell him. He’d been liberated from the endless gems of the garden, set free to see more of the world. He’d married a handsome prince, and he was even promised that they were fated. The only thing left to do was pass these trials. All they had asked for so far was a tapestry. An easy endeavor for one such as he. Besides, he felt like something would happen soon; he just needed to be patient to see what it would be.

Akira froze at his words, then walked over to slump into the chair set at Yusuke’s table. “What causes me to..?” Akira laughed, the sound unhappy. “You have to make a tapestry! By tomorrow!” His head dropped into his hands.

He was upset at that? It seemed like an easy enough task to Yusuke. He’d woven tapestries as a child, though those had been similarly childishly made. Madarame had still enjoyed them, had taken them to hang in his castle. He’d even asked for more, challenged Yusuke to make them ever more detailed and intricate, and tested his ability to make them quickly at that same quality. Making a tapestry that would show off his skills in one night would be barely a challenge. All he had to do was wait for the moon to rise properly.

Hopping over to his husband, Yusuke delicately placed a hand on Akira’s arm. Only once he was sure the prince was paying attention to him more than his worries did he speak. “Do not worry. I will have a tapestry for you by the morn.”

The distressed frown blanketing Akira’s face only creased further. “But…you’re a frog.”

“I am,” Yusuke responded, voice serene. “Just go to bed and rest. In the morning you’ll wake up, worries gone and tapestry made.”

Akira clearly didn’t believe him, but he still rose to prepare for bed. It took long minutes for him to fall asleep, tossing and turning until he stilled with a final discontent murmur. Not a moment too soon, as the moon finally freed itself from the horizon and bathed the room in delicate white light.

Yusuke let a slow breath out. It was always uncomfortable to shift back, ribbons of disquieting sensation running along each limb, his bones twisting from one shape to another. Stretching, he stood up. It always felt good to move his full new range right after the shift. The room seemed smaller from his new vantage, and yet he could see better how the colors and patterns of the room complimented each other, now that he was of the height they were meant to be seen. Carefully, he scooped up his little frog skin. It needed to be protected, something deep in him always knew. He wasn’t sure what would happen if the skin was brought to harm, but surely something terrible.

The moonlight glittered through the window, and he couldn’t help but follow its path to where it gleamed on his prince’s sleeping face. Even now, it was creased with worry, tense and upset. Motions silent in the still of the night, Yusuke knelt down in front of Akira, eyes tracing the shape of his face. He really did have such beautiful features, a symmetry between left and right uncommon in people and a stark contrast in his coloration, dark hair with pale skin and dark eyes. Soft fingertips feathered over cheekbones, and he watched as Akira relaxed under his touch.

He could have made any tapestry impressive enough for the court, but now he wanted to capture the moonlight against Akira’s skin, the shadows of his hair, the warmth of his touch. Only the greatest masterpiece he could create would be good enough to present to this prince who took him home, who was trusting a little frog, blind of the frog’s true abilities.

Standing, he backed out of Akira's room. He framed the main room between his fingers with a soft hum and took stock. A square of moonlight had fallen on the stone of the floor. In the breeze from the window, it fluttered prettily, glittering and ethereal. It would work perfectly as the base of his tapestry. He gathered it up, folding it neatly into his arms. Slipping through the door, he ghosted down the hallway to the courtyard nearby. Yusuke could feel the happiness of the trees in the breeze, almost could hear the sleepy chirping of the nightingales. He trailed one hand along the wall as he walked, the stone humming cheerfully under his touch. This castle had seen much history, it whispered to him, not always happy. And yet, the stone mostly murmured stories of quiet nights and content lives.

Madarame’s garden didn’t sing of anything. Yusuke liked this better.

Finally, he stepped into the moonlight of the courtyard. It was a small one, probably meant to be a place of privacy and peace for the prince. Yusuke breathed in the cool air, let his exhale release the tension in his body. Humming to himself, he threw the moonlight into the air, watched as it unfolded and drifted to the perfect height. He didn’t know where the song came from, but he’d known it as long as he could remember. It always helped him create his art. Once, he’d tried asking Madarame about it, but he’d barely gotten halfway through the question before Madarame sent him away with words harsh enough he’d never tried again.

Yusuke sang to the grass as he plucked a few blades, sang as he placed them delicately in the tapestry and watched as a field grew. One of the chirping nightingales offered him twigs, and he took them with a nod and quiet trill of thankful notes. He weaved them in at the sides, large trees twisting their way up and leaves twining with each other along the top. Flowers brought to him by a group of chittering mice wreathed the edge with a careful melody dancing with each bloom. An owl caught stars from the sky with a prideful hoot, and Yusuke let them glitter under the trees’ canopy as he hummed along. Two red fox kits barked at each other as they brought him a leaf full of sparkling water to create a pond in the field, and he thanked them with a quick laughing bar. A bit of the leaf became a lily pad. Gently, he breathed on the water, ripples forming in the clear blue. Yusuke pricked his thumb on one of the roses at the edge of the courtyard, pressed the bead of blood to the tapestry. When his finger lifted, a small frog perched on the lily pad, staring up at the stars.

He leaned back. Almost done. Careful to grab only the brightest petals from the rose and humming his appreciation to the bush for letting him take them, Yusuke shaped a figure on the far side of the pond. Vibrant red petals and black shadows formed princely finery. A bit more moonlight brought shine to his face. Yusuke let the song quiet, let the notes come out softer as he added details. The prince needed to be _just_ so. Slowly, the song came to an end, and he stepped back. The tapestry glimmered and shone, colors winking in the moonlight and a quiet magic gleaming from its threads. Not a detail was out of place. Everything was just as it should be, and he folded it back up. A little box could help keep it clean while he waited for the sun to rise, and with it, Akira.

One of the young trees offered to help him. Rustling, it extended a branch, green leaves molding themselves into delicate carvings and bark smoothing into a soft finish. Taking the box, Yusuke drifted a hand along the remaining branch. He let his thanks fill his touch, and felt the tree’s pleasure in return. Folding the tapestry inside the little box, Yusuke turned back towards the prince’s rooms. He’d leave the box on the table where Akira could see it in the morning, then find somewhere to sleep. Perhaps there would even be some pillows he could borrow.

* * *

Akira woke up more rested then he thought he should be, once he remembered what was expected of his little frog. Stretching, he stumbled from his bed. Where was Yusuke, anyway? He wasn’t on the table anymore, though a small wooden box had manifested overnight. Miniature leaves twisted and danced their way across its lid, sunlight dappling the dark wood and enticing his hand closer. The wood was almost soft against his skin as he picked it up. It was so small, so light, barely the size of his palm and as weightless as a spring breeze.

“The tapestry requested of me is inside that box.”

The voice came from the doorway to the sitting room. Akira nearly dropped the box, spinning around to face his frog consort. Yusuke just watched him, quiet. The sunlight stopped just before his small form, leaving him wreathed in shadows. His mask-like mark stood out, ghostly against the dark green of his skin.

Shaking his head, Akira relaxed back against the table. Scared by a frog, this morning couldn’t get any more ridiculous. Though how a tapestry could fit in this tiny box, Akira didn’t know. The tapestries in the hall were massive things, stretching from floor to ceiling and easily four times his height in length. This box couldn’t possibly hold anything even close to those towering panels.

“You sure?” He couldn’t help the question. It wasn’t so much that he doubted Yusuke, just that this all was so impossible. His little frog wove a tapestry overnight, and said tapestry could fit into a box too small for even a broach.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” The words were nonchalant, thankfully unoffended and nearly bland in their sureness. “I did create the tapestry, and I did place it inside that box.” Silence reigned for a moment as Yusuke focused, a determined look on his face before he gracefully leapt onto the table. “I am curious, however.” He paused, waiting for Akira to nod. “What do you generally have for breakfast?”

Akira could only laugh in response. Yusuke’s confused expression only made him laugh harder. Asking about breakfast wasn’t what he was expecting from his little frog, but he was starting to learn that maybe Yusuke was just going to shatter any expectations he might have.

* * *

There were more people in the crowd than Akira had been expecting. Sure, it was the first trial for the prince’s new consort, but this seemed excessive. He could barely go two steps without someone stopping him to chat. Though it was fairly obvious they wanted less to speak with him and more to gawk at Yusuke on his shoulder. At least he seemed to be handling it well, puffing up every time someone commented on how pretty he was. The surprised tone it was usually said in didn’t seem to matter to him.

Eventually, after what felt like years of the same insipid conversation – Good morning, yes this is the new prince consort, he is quite pretty isn’t he, yes it is strange fate brought him a frog, no he is in fact perfectly content with his frog husband, he really must be going now the king is surely getting impatient to start – a loud bang rang out from the dais. Silence fell as everyone turned to face the king. A path through the crowd opened between Akira and his father, lined with bowing courtiers. Akira carefully did not roll his eyes as he strolled closer to the dais. Court life was so dramatic sometimes.

“It is time to show the fruit borne from our prince consort’s efforts. Yesterday, we asked for a tapestry to reveal the consort’s ability to know the intricacies of life and mindfulness to replicate them. Today, we ask for that tapestry to be shared with the court, so that it may be judged by the people.” The ritual words were almost soothing, Sojiro’s low voice resonating throughout the hall. The court’s eyes were heavy on his shoulders, but Akira barely felt them. Yusuke had asked for his trust and had promised him that the challenge had been met. All he needed to do was believe him.

Gasps and titters escaped those closest as he pulled the little box from his pocket. He could feel Yusuke shift on his shoulder as he removed the lid, and he carefully handed it to the frog for safekeeping. The tapestry pooled in his hand as he tipped the box, cool as moonlight on his skin and sparkling as vibrantly as the stars. The box was handed over as gently as its lid. Akira unfolded the tapestry, and unfolded it and unfolded it and unfolded it, until it was long enough to puddle against the stones of the floor, only saved from that fate by an intangible breeze keeping it fluttering gently away from the dust and dirt.

How his little frog husband had managed such delicate and beautiful work, he couldn’t guess. And yet there it existed: a tapestry made of such fine threads it floated in the air, details picked out in the silver of stars and the darkness of pure shadow. A lake sat under a gleaming night sky, surrounded by vibrant grass and a dense forest. A frog sat in the center of the lake, staring wistfully up at the stars, as a figure red as rubies and blood and decorated with filigree dark as a moonless night sat at the lakeside. With a start, Akira realized that was them, that he was the figure so lovingly detailed that he thought he could see each individual eyelash on his woven face.

Applause startled him out of his reverie. Blinking, Akira pulled his tapestry closer as the court cheered their approval of Yusuke's efforts. A heavy hand dropped onto his empty shoulder, and his father’s proud gaze met his own wide eyes when he turned.

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a talented little frog, kid.” Sojiro’s voice was low, meant only for the two of them. He nodded, silent, as Yusuke puffed up in pride on his shoulder. A gentle pat, and Sojiro turned to face the audience, though he left his hand where it was. Akira found himself grateful for it, stunned as he was still by how much care Yusuke had obviously put into his tapestry. Voice raised so that it would again carry across the hall, his father finished the ritual for this first ceremony. “Do the people of the court approve of the fruit borne from our first trial?”

The words were unnecessary, merely a formality with how loudly the court had been roaring their approval already. Sojiro let them carry on a bit longer, then raised his hand, waiting for a hush to once again fall across the room. Slowly, it did, the silence eager.

“With the first trial passed, now we ask our second.” Somehow, it felt like the crowd pressed closer, even as Akira could swear no one moved. He had no idea how his father was so calm in front of this much focused attention. “The second task is to bake a loaf of bread, the finest possible by their own hands, to be presented to the court by morning. From this, we shall be able to know their ability to provide for those under themselves with grace and skill.”

Chatter broke out as Akira bowed, accepting the second trial for Yusuke. His tapestry whispered against itself as he moved. He had no idea how Yusuke had managed to pass his first trial, but he could only hope another miracle happened.

* * *

Yusuke watched from the table as Akira carefully folded his tapestry and laid it back into its little box. The reverence with which Akira handled the cloth made something warm rise in him, soft and unfurling as carefully as the stray live fern that managed to grow in his garden before Madarame saw it and turned it to cold crystal. He watched as graceful fingers danced along the weave, tracing the patterns before smoothing sharp folds. If he showed his true self before the prince, would his fingers trail along his skin like that? Yusuke would like to trace Akira’s features, he thought, would like to feel how each twitch of his emotions moved the tiny muscles of his face. Perhaps Akira would let him paint him some day. Or work his likeness from clay. That would give Yusuke a better excuse to touch him, to get a feel for the physical measure of his face. Absently, his webbed hand curled as he imagined trailing fingertips across sharp cheekbones, down the slope of his nose and along soft lips. His light touch from the night before only fed the desire to touch more.

“Is there something on my face?”

Blinking, Yusuke dragged his attention from his contemplations. Akira was watching him with a small smile, the tapestry hidden away in its box again. A couple seconds passed, the two of them just looking at each other, before Yusuke cleared his throat with a quiet croak. “No,” he replied, catching how his prince’s smile ticked wider before the boy turned to place the box on the fireplace’s mantle. “I was just considering the artistic and physical value of the body.”

“Oh?” Akira’s voice was light, laughter running under a note of sincerity.

Yusuke dragged himself up to his haughtiest height, puffing out his chest. “Indeed. You see, the face is not perfectly symmetrical, and, depending on the angle and coloration of the light that falls on it, can be made to appear in many different variations of itself. In fact-“ He cut himself off as Akira yawned, distracted by the embarrassed flush crawling up his cheeks. It looked like rose petals in moonlight, highlighted by the flickering shadows of the fire.

“I’m sorry, Yusuke, I didn’t mean to seem rude. You can continue if you want.” Rubbing his eyes, Akira plopped down at the table’s chair. Another yawn, then his tired regard returned to Yusuke from under slow blinks of full lashes.

“…No, it is fine.” He hopped close enough to rest one tiny hand on Akira’s arm. “You should sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning for the rest.”

Akira hummed, slumping down to rest his head on his elbow. They were face to face, silvery grey eyes level with his own mask-marked dark grey. Slowly, Akira’s hand rose, and Yusuke let it cover him, gentle pressure holding him in place. Even through his formal gloves, his hand was warm. They stayed like that, the only sounds the popping of the fire and their breaths between them. Yusuke watched as Akira slowly lost the fight against sleep, blinks becoming longer and breath slowing to a steady crawl. Once he was sure he wouldn’t awaken, Yusuke inched out from under his hand. Loathe as he was to give up the comfortable spot, he couldn’t transform on top of the table, right next to the prince. He had to keep his secret, just for a bit longer. Just until he was sure nothing could go wrong.

Hopping down to the floor, he marveled at how much easier Akira slept this night than the last. Did he trust him that much already, to have so few worries about this trial? He hadn’t even said anything about it before falling asleep.

Not that he should be worried. Yusuke might not be as proficient at baking as more traditional art forms, but it was still an art, and he was still gifted in it.

On the floor, far enough away from the furniture to avoid bumping into anything, Yusuke breathed deep, feeling himself swell around it, feeling his breath turn deeper as his body retook his true form and his lungs expanded. Stretching, he let his breath sigh out. Gentle, he picked up his small frog skin, hiding it away safely.

It was time to get to work, but one thing before he went in search of an empty kitchen. He ducked into Akira’s room, collecting his heavy duvet from the bed. It must have been freshly laundered, as it smelled still of lye and lavender. Unable to resist, he buried his face in it, just for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the chance to curl up in a blanket like this, but the smell reminded something in him of comfort and safety and the impression of a woman’s laughter. There wasn't anything like this in Madarame’s garden, but he had no memory of anything else. Sighing, he shook himself. He was wasting time on useless ponderings.

Silent as the moonlight illuminating his way, Yusuke approached Akira in his chair. He draped the duvet over him, tucking him in as best he could. The fire wouldn’t survive for much longer, but this way Akira would not awaken with a chill.

Satisfied, he turned to the door. A breeze whispered past him, warning him of old maids and eager guards alike, waiting to see if they could catch how the prince’s little frog worked his magic. He slipped through the doorway, the heavy wooden door closing silently behind him. The breeze tugged past him, brushing strands of his hair across his face, playfully dancing down the empty corridor. Following after it, Yusuke let himself slip into the shadows. They’d hide him from any wandering eyes. Soon, a couple of the palace cats joined him, weaving around his feet and flashing their eyes in the moonlight. They kept him company all the way to the quiet kitchen.

A sense of anticipation surrounded him as he stepped into the kitchen. It was dark, the only light flickering from the low fires in the ovens. They sang to him, called him to stoke them higher and wake the oven. The mortar and pestle clattered quietly, counterpoint to the fire’s popping. Even the pantry hummed a low refrain, offering its contents for his perusal. Yusuke felt himself relax into the song, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sang back, that same song he’d always known, the one that only came out for his art. 

Humming cheerfully, he wandered to the ovens. There was a stack of firewood next to them, a few of the logs calling him, chattering about how they’d burn hot and slow for him, how they’d get the oven purring with a merry warmth. They cheered with the scraping of bark as he pulled a few of them free. The embers sparked excitedly as Yusuke built them a home with the logs, reaching with impatient wisps and sharp pops to lick at the wood. Yusuke couldn’t help but laugh with them. How different it was cooking here than the few times Madarame had deigned to let him inside his kitchen. Even the dust danced with him as he moved around the kitchen. Everything in that jeweled garden slept undreaming, Madarame’s kitchen equally deaf to his song. Only the water and wind had ever responded before, and he was nearly dizzy with how much joy there was in creation here.

Oh, but he was so grateful for Akira’s arrow.

Jars clattered with eager glee as Yusuke gathered the herbs, dairies, and dry ingredients for his bread. The soapstone cookware sleepily murmured its thanks at being filled and set in the warmth of the oven’s mouth. Yusuke closed his eyes and hummed along with the swirling song dancing through the room. He’d never heard so many voices, so many parts of his song, all together before. Even the courtyard the night before, so alive with small creatures, hadn’t been as multifarious as this.

Soon enough, the warm pot called out to him, asked to be joined with the other ingredients. Mixing and kneading the dough, Yusuke could feel its impatience to grow, to rise and bloom in preparation for baking. He knew how it felt, having to wait in order to do what you were meant to. Waiting for the moon to rise every night could be excruciating. That sense that something was coming, changing, soon was growing though. Just a few more days, he was sure. 

He set the dough on a free bread proofing cloth, gently wrapping it up. As soon as he pulled his hands away, it started mumbling a bubbly tune to itself, working on puffing itself larger and larger. The oven trilled for his attention with a crackle of embers, asked to be cleared out and prepared for the bread. Carefully, Yusuke raked the coals out and ran the oven mop over the floor, washing the ash off where the bread will sit. He closed the door on the oven’s rolling hums of pleasure just in time for the dough to be ready for splitting. Its tune became a trio as he rolled and braided the dough. He knotted and twisted it into a cheerful round loaf, then covered it to grow and puff again.

The jars he had pulled out earlier yawned and settled back on their shelves as he put them away, quiet murmurs following him out of the pantry. Their pleased satisfaction at a job well done was a warm ball in his chest, and he couldn’t help the small smile on his face or the little trill of notes he sang back to them.

His loaf interrupted with a belligerent crescendo, demanding that it be put in the oven before it got too big. Chuckling under his breath, Yusuke lifted it and slid it into the warm embrace of the oven, hands careful of both the hot stone and the exact placement of the loaf. Door closed behind it, he turned his attention to the sleepy whining of the tools that had helped him. Soothing notes calmed them as he washed and dried, the song growing quiet one part at a time as the kitchen was slowly returned to midnight peace but for the content purrs of the oven and the bread inside it.

Yusuke sat down in front of the oven, basking in the warmth radiating from it. Legs crossed, elbows braced on his knees, and his head resting on the palm of one hand, he closed his eyes and hummed a quiet refrain along. This was contentment unlike anything he’d known before.

Akira drifted across his thoughts, and a burst of fondness filled Yusuke. The good prince, his reluctant rescuer, the man trusting him to pull off miracles so they could stay together. He’d tell Akira the truth, he decided, just as soon as the tasks were finished. There was only one more left, after all. And if deep in his heart he hoped that Akira could help him, well, no one but him needed to know for now.

A change in the song drew Yusuke out of his thoughts; the bread was almost done. Standing, he found a corner of the counter covered in dappled moonlight, and he encouraged it to leave the cold stone to gather in his hands. For a moment he paused, admiring how the light shifted through the shadows of the moon-cloth. Delicate, he spread it out again. The bread was pulled out of the oven with a happy trill, and Yusuke smiled at its golden surface. Placing it against the dark cloth, he couldn’t help but appreciate the way it looked like sunlight and summer, bright and warm. He let it rest as he turned to the oven, helped it settle back to its dreaming.

Wrapping the loaf in its cloth, Yusuke made his way back to Akira’s chambers. No cats joined him this time, but owls watched him through the occasional window, and he was still not alone. He let the shadows guide him around corners and past guards and maids alike, taking childish pleasure in sneaking past them.

Soon enough, he was pushing through the heavy door to the sight of Akira curled up under his duvet, just where Yusuke had left him. He left the loaf on the table where it wouldn’t get knocked off, then turned his mind to sleeping. The sun would rise soon, and he needed his sleep.

Perhaps he’d just tuck himself back under Akira’s still slightly raised hand.

* * *

Akira groaned as he woke, the table hard under him and muscles sore from sleeping hunched over. What had he been thinking, passing out here instead of in his ridiculously soft and comfortable bed? Grumbling he pulled his duvet closer around his shoulders, trying to bury himself in the small amount of comfort and warmth it brought.

Akira froze. His duvet? Cracking one eye open, he confirmed that it was indeed his duvet draped over him. The one that was usually on his bed. The one that he _absolutely_ didn’t fall asleep under last night. How did it get over him? The maids knew that he didn’t like them in his room while he was sleeping, so they wouldn’t have put it over him.

A small croaking snore pulled him from his thoughts. Yusuke was still asleep, huddled into himself and half under Akira’s hand. He really was such a cute little thing, Akira found himself thinking. Imperious too, and he had to muffle a laugh as he remembered their first conversation. He’d have gladly taken Yusuke as his consort, no questions asked, if only he’d been human instead of a magic frog. He drifted his thumb over Yusuke’s head, light enough he barely felt the pressure at all. Yusuke shifted under the touch, and Akira laughed quietly as he watched the little frog wiggle itself closer against his palm. He did it again, tracing the line of the mask-like shape covering the top half of Yusuke’s face. He got another wiggle, then Yusuke blinking awake to send him a cross look. It dissolved quickly though, seemingly as Yusuke realized where he was and who was touching him.

“Good morning,” he greeted, voice rough with sleep. “Your bread is made.”

Blinking, Akira followed his gesture to the other side of the table. There was a bundle of cloth there, with what could be a round loaf inside it. How he’d missed it when he woke up, Akira didn’t know.

Or he did, actually, as his attention was drawn back to Yusuke as the frog crawled out from under his hand. Waking up cradling his surprisingly lovely little frog husband had been very distracting.

“Well then,” Akira chirped, sitting up and letting a small smirk cross his face, “it’s showtime.” He couldn’t wait to see how the court reacted to this second miracle.

* * *

Turned out, the court reacted mostly the same. Snickers and courteously worded condescending comments followed him around the room after he had placed his bundle on the tray awaiting it. He lost count of the number of times he’d been asked what ingredients were in it, and Yusuke didn’t seem any more inclined to talk than he had before. After the fourth ‘I don’t know; I didn’t make it,’ he’d just started telling people it was a surprise.

At least fewer people seemed to actually want to talk to him. Akira assumed that most of them had gotten their gawking at Yusuke out at the previous trial reveal, and now were just there to gossip and point. He kept his head high, making sure to run a comforting touch over Yusuke where he was perched on his shoulder every now and then. The little frog seemed almost nervous, unlike last time. Meeting Sojiro’s eyes over the crowd, Akira tilted his head at one of the curtained alcoves meant for private conversations. Sojiro raised an eyebrow. His gaze flickered to where Akira’s hand hovered protectively over Yusuke and back, and he gave a slight nod. Grateful, Akira weaved through the milling court and ducked into the comparative quiet behind the thick curtains.

Sitting on the cushioned window ledge, he transferred Yusuke from his shoulder to his lap with a careful motion. The frog refused to look at him, and a pang of worry constricted Akira’s breathing.

“What’s wrong, Yusuke?” His words were soft, sure not to travel past the curtains but still as concerned as he could make them.

“I…” Yusuke glanced up at him, then away. “No, it is nothing.”

Akira stroked along the side of Yusuke’s face where it was turned from him. “It doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

Silence was his response, but Akira knew how to wait. Futaba had taught him the special brand of patience it took to wait out anxieties long ago. He just continued his gentle touches, hoping they brought Yusuke some comfort.

Eventually, Yusuke sighed, pulling himself from his slouch to face Akira. “You are correct; it’s not nothing.” He hesitated, but continued before Akira could prompt him. “I hadn’t realized, yesterday, that those people only wanted to jeer at the poor prince with his unfortunate frog consort. It is…disheartening to realize that they do not care about my capabilities or the trials, but instead only how their prevarications can spread. I do not wish to be known as just that frog the luckless prince brought home to marry, and can not stand that any of them doubt that I am indeed the one fulfilling the trials.”

Akira flinched at that; he’d heard that rumor floating around as well. That Akira himself was doing the trials, or that he was having some maid do it for him. How anyone thought he was capable of making a tapestry as fine as the one Yusuke delivered, he couldn’t figure out.

“The court is cruel, sometimes,” Akira started, not quite sure where he was going with this. “But as long as we know the truth, does it matter what they say?"

Yusuke hummed, obviously not convinced.

“Futaba and Sojiro know I couldn’t weave something that nice, at least. You heard him yesterday. He thought you were really talented. So they know the truth, at least.”

“The truth…” Yusuke murmured. A moment of thought, then he nodded decisively. “Yes. The court’s opinion will not matter in a couple days, and those of import know I am more than some common frog.” Imperious, he gestured for Akira to lift him back to his shoulder perch. “Besides, there is time yet to prove myself to those chattering courtiers in the last trial.”

They’d brushed through the curtain before Akira could respond. The last trial… Well, he considered as Sojiro motioned the court to order, it sure would be interesting to see Yusuke accomplish it. Hurrying slightly, he took their place before the king.

“The first trial passed,” Sojiro spoke over the last murmurs of the crowd, “and we asked our second. It is time again to show the fruit borne from our prince consort’s efforts. Yesterday, we asked for a loaf of bread to reveal the consort’s ability to know what is asked from them by those they must lead and their proficiency in providing it. Today, we ask for that loaf to be shared with the court, so that it may be judged by the people.”

Silent expectation rose around them as the king unwrapped the bread. The rich scent of fresh bread rolled through the room, and Akira couldn’t help but admire the golden crust and dusting of herbs. His mouth watered, and he swallowed his impatience to try it. Sojiro cut it in half, turning it open to expose the pale insides. Herbs studded the bread, looking like they danced through the dough. Akira swore that he could hear someone’s stomach grumble. He had to agree. That was the best looking loaf he’d seen in his life – and he’d seen some fancy breads.

Sojiro nodded and started cutting the loaf into slices of one or two bites. With how many people there were, it would be a stretch for everyone to have a piece, but it was tradition to at least make the attempt. Servants lined up with platters, and he portioned out the slices for the court until only three remained. Akira took his and broke a piece off for Yusuke as Futaba and the court all took their own. Akira waited until all the slices had been handed out, hums of delight and happy murmurs filling the room, before he tried his own.

Thyme and rosemary burst over his tongue, followed by the sweetness of marjoram. He’d never be able to settle for the plain loaves served with meals now that he knew his little frog husband could make bread as good as this.

He was just wishing that he got more than one bite when a tug on his tunic pulled him from his thoughts. Futaba had come down from the dais and was nervously, but determinedly, facing Yusuke.

“You make pretty good bread, for a frog.” Her voice was friendly, even if the words were a little mean.

Akira rolled his eyes. Yusuke shifted on his shoulder, but, as Akira expected, didn’t verbally respond. Whatever he did though, Futaba seemed to take it as a good enough answer, because she gave Akira a quick hug and scurried back out of the crowd.

Sojiro cleared his throat, drawing the court’s focus back to the ceremony. “Do the people of the court approve of the fruit borne from our second trial?”

Immediately, cheers and applause broke out. Akira caught one or two distinct shouts regarding the bread’s flavor or how the shouter wished they had more, and pride crested in him. Yusuke had succeeded with well beyond flying colors, two trials in a row.

Raising his hands for quiet, Sojiro continued. “With the second trial passed, now we ask our last.” Excited murmurs ripped through the court, but sudden dread made it hard for Akira to breathe. “A banquet shall be prepared for tonight, and all the court is invited to feast and dance. The last task we ask of our prince consort is to join us in our merriment, to eat with us and dance with us. From this, we shall be able to know their willingness to join our court with cheer and open arms.”

Heart in his throat, Akira bowed to the sound of the court’s approval. It would take a miracle beyond what they’ve seen yet for Yusuke to succeed this time.

* * *

His prince was stressed, shoulder tight and steps quick under him as they made their way back to his rooms. Yusuke wanted to say something, but every time he opened his mouth a servant came bustling around the corner or through a doorway. It would have to wait until they arrived. He pushed himself close to the curve where Akira’s neck met shoulder and hoped the pressure of his small body would help.

Soon enough, the oaken door guarding Akira’s chambers was closing behind them with a resolute thud. Akira paced forwards, turned sharply on a heel to pace back. On the third pass, Yusuke made his escape to the table, landing unbalanced. Flopping down flat and trying to breathe deep through the queasy roiling of his stomach, he almost didn’t register Akira rushing to his side.

“Yusuke!” Soft hands gathered him up, bringing him face to face with the prince. “Are you alright?”

He’d be more alright if Akira would stop moving him a moment, but that was uncharitable. Yusuke clenched his eyes shut and forced the nausea to abate slightly. “I am…” he managed, “just a trifle motion sick.”

“Oh.” Akira shifted under him, much more gently this time. He was set back on the table, Akira’s hands disappearing with the sound of a chair moving across the stone floor. “Is that better?”

A couple seconds passed in silence as Yusuke took deep breaths. His stomach finally settled, and he looked back up at his prince. “Yes, thank you.”

The worried pinch between Akira’s brows didn’t relax, even as he nodded. If only he had his hands, Yusuke would press a thumb to those wrinkles, smooth the skin and soothe the thoughts underneath. But all he could do was hop close enough to rest small, webbed fingers against his knuckles.

“I suppose this means that you can’t just ride on my shoulder as we dance tonight.”

A wave of anticipatory nausea swept through Yusuke. Akira walking was no issue, but they’d just seen that quick turns were definitively more than Yusuke could handle.

“And I must dance? There’s no other way?”

Miserably, Akira shook his head. “We traditionally make adaptations as necessary, but the last consort chosen who couldn’t dance is in legends. Everyone else could dance, even if from a wheeled chair.”

“What of the one in legend?” Maybe there was still a way to pass the trial without revealing himself.

“She couldn’t move,” Akira responded, speech slow as he tried to recall. “But she could still talk, and I think she told her princess how to move her? So even as she couldn’t move herself, she was still the one controlling her body.”

That was...very sweet, but not what Yusuke had been hoping to hear. He cast about for another idea, any idea. “Could we place a stool on the floor for me while you dance around me?”

Akira hesitated, and Yusuke felt his spirits raise. This would work, wouldn’t it? He’d dance on the stool, then leave before the moon rose.

“I...don’t think so.” Akira fitted his fingertips in Yusuke’s hands and gently led him in a wobbly circle on the table. “We have to move around the floor, even just a little bit. And if you were on the ground, I’d be worried you’d get stepped on.”

A reasonable worry, but one that Yusuke wanted to dismiss. He’d much rather risk injury than his other option: revealing himself. Anxiety pulled at his thoughts, and he pushed at Akira’s hand until he could hide under its cover. If he failed this challenge, would he be sent back to the garden? Despite the fact that he’d lived his whole life there, this castle was far more home than it had ever felt. Back in the garden, he’d never see Akira again, never have a chance to sing and have his surroundings respond, never feel as free and welcomed as he did there.

Akira’s thumb brushed against his head, and Yusuke leaned into the touch even as he hunkered further into the warmth of his palm.

This was the last task, and hadn’t he told himself he’d tell Akira the truth? A better opportunity could barely be had. His prince had taken such good care of him so far, protecting him from the court and reassuring him when he faltered. Even when they met, Akira had been so concerned about his health as they escaped the gleaming garden. He’d protect him should anything go wrong, wouldn’t he?

“How...how long does the ball last?” Yusuke felt his voice shake and pitch itself higher, but there was nothing he could do about it. The idea of revealing himself was terrifying, made all the more so for doing it in front of the entire court.

“Usually until dawn.” The words were even, no emotion layered in them to betray Akira’s thoughts.

Yusuke swallowed thickly, debating with himself one last time. Something deep in him told him this was a bad idea, to wait until after the trials before revealing himself. But, he argued with the feeling, if he didn’t reveal himself, he wouldn’t still be here after the third trial, and all his effort would be for naught. He had to take the risk.

“I’ll dance at midnight.”

He felt Akira’s hand freeze around him, then it lifted so the prince could meet his eyes. Confusion painted itself across his features, but as Yusuke held his gaze it turned to trust. Yusuke nearly felt his belief in him, the fact that he hadn’t failed yet obviously reassuring Akira that he would not fail this time either. Yusuke had said he would dance, and so he would.

“That’s a little long to just sit at the banquet, but if you don’t mind it then it’s fine with me.” Akira pressed a gentle finger to Yusuke’s nose.

“Ah, no, you misunderstand.” Yusuke used the hand before him to leverage himself up. “I will be there only a bit earlier. You’ll have to wait a few hours for me.”

Akira’s face twisted briefly in question before he nodded his understanding. “How will I know you’re arriving?”

Settling back down on the table, Yusuke passed nervous hands over the line between Akira’s nail and cuticle. “You’ll know. I promise. It will be obvious enough.”

“Okay. You’ll be fine by yourself as I prepare and leave?”

“I will,” Yusuke promised. “Go ahead and prepare. You’re expected soon, correct?”

Flushing slightly, Akira nodded.

Yusuke pushed his hand back towards him with what he hoped was an encouraging look. As Akira stood, Yusuke let his gaze drop to the table. Arriving an hour or two before midnight gave him plenty of time to create his garments, but it also gave him plenty of time to dread his debut.

He couldn’t go back now. Akira was depending on him. His _freedom_ was depending on this.

Lost in his thoughts, time slipped past Yusuke, and it seemed only moments later that Akira stood before him in his finery. Red dark as blood was embroidered with elegant lines and swirls of pitch black, and a high collar framed Akira’s jaw in such a way that Yusuke felt his heart stutter. He watched as Akira fiddled with the white cravat around his neck, long fingers smoothing the knot and making sure the lace laid flat. A pair of gloves covered the smooth skin, red as his outfit with black fingers. Yusuke ached to press himself against Akira’s striking figure, to run his hands over the intricate threads and feel Akira’s gloves against his skin.

Something to look forward to tonight, he supposed.

With one last pull at his gloves, Akira turned to present himself for Yusuke’s approval. Heart in his throat, all Yusuke could do was nod and hope it was good enough. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” Smiling, Akira brushed his hand over Yusuke’s head again.

Yusuke echoed his words, feeling cold as soon as he turned his back. The door closed, and Yusuke was alone. He took a breath, letting it settle his nerves as he watched the sun succumb to the horizon. He could do this. Akira would be there for him.

As the moon slowly rose, Yusuke listened to the laughter and cheers drifting on the wind. He’d be down there soon. Human in front of others for the first time he could remember, barring Madarame. Moonlight crept across the table towards him, and he backed away from it before he could stop himself. That feeling from before, that something terrible would happen if he did this, swept over him again. It kept him frozen, just out of reach of the silver light.

Raucous laughter filled the room from elsewhere in the castle, and Yusuke _wanted_. He wanted to be down there, he wanted to be with his prince, he wanted to be _free_. Shaking himself, he jumped from the table, determinedly hopping into the patch of light on the floor. His transformation felt like permission, and he barely paused to adjust before singing out a clear note.

The flutter of wings outside responded, nightjars trilling as they perched on the windowsill. He gathered up white moonlight as the birds tittered to him and each other, then launched back into the night. They came back with cloth the shade of the sky between stars, a blue so dark it seemed black. Yusuke hummed a grateful ditty, barely listening for the nightjars’ response as they fluffed their feathers and flew off. Excitement strummed through his blood. He was going to dance with his husband, the prince, for all the court to admire. His hands shaped the cloth into clothes with blades made of a gust of wind, dark pants and shirt taking form alongside a white half cloak.

A soft chitter by his shoe pulled his attention down. A little mouse sat there, looking soft and sweet. Setting his outfit down, Yusuke cooed a questioning note. The mouse twitched its whiskers, then darted away. Yusuke watched it go with a chuckle, laughing harder as it came tumbling back. It rubbed its face, busily cleaning its fur and whiskers. Gently, he sang a playful tune down, watching as the mouse bounced around his feet, squeaking. Sitting abruptly, it washed its face again. Amused, Yusuke watched as it chittered to itself. A glint of moonlight lit upon its whiskers, and then it was pushing a small paw up towards him. Once more moonlight gilded the mouse’s edges, glittering off the needle made of a loose whisker it was offering him. He took it with a trio of notes, pleasure and thanks twined together.

A few stray lines of moonlight were spun into gleaming thread. Careful notes helped him focus as he stitched patterns along the edges of his sleeves, white thread bright against the dark fabric. Stars took shape along crystals, the lines of cold wind twining with rays of moonlight up his arms. He hummed his satisfaction with the embroidery, setting aside his needle.

He changed into the finery, cool silken cloth sleek against his skin. Tugging at his sleeves, Yusuke let himself admire the image he cut in the mirror he could see through Akira’s open bedroom door. No one in the court would be able to say he did not have the poise to match any of them.

Though, he realized, he was missing one more detail.

Leaning out the window, Yusuke whistled an entreaty to the ducks drifting on the courtyard pond. A couple glanced up at him, honking a measure of agreement playing at overdone annoyance. They ducked their head under the water, brilliant blue under the night sky, then made their bustling way towards him. Reaching out, Yusuke took the gloves from the two, thanking them for their help with a bright swirl of song. As he pulled the gloves on, the ducks honked their approval of his outfit, returning to their flock with the gossip they gathered about him.

Yusuke took a deep breath, settling himself one last time before sweeping out of the room, unnoticing of the quiet shaft of light that drifted over his small, forgotten frog skin on the floor.

He had a banquet to get to.

As he walked the halls, Yusuke could feel the wind gather around him, excitedly billowing and pushing him ever forwards. Chuckling, he encouraged it, listened to it howl his music ahead of him and back to him. From outside, thunder rolled as he approached the ballroom’s great doors, and a hush fell over the feast inside. Yusuke paused, thanking the wind and thunder for his escort, letting them die down before he pushed the doors open.

Half the court was on their feet, but the only person Yusuke saw was Akira, out of his chair and halfway to the entrance before Yusuke had taken three steps.

Delight covered his prince’s face, and Yusuke gladly gave his hand when Akira reached for it. He felt his face flush brightly as Akira swept a bow and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his hand.

“Hello, my frog prince.” Akira smirked up at him, still bowing, eyes gleaming with pleasure and mischief.

Yusuke couldn’t help the smile that grew in response. “Hello, husband.”

Whispering chatter exploded around the room, but Akira just guided him to his table, sitting Yusuke between himself and the princess. She blinked wide eyes at him for a moment, then sent a cheshire grin at Akira.

“Cleans up pretty good for a little frog!” She chirped. Turning back to Yusuke, she continued. “I knew Akira was no good for the first two trials. Nice to see who actually made them! Did you make your clothes for tonight? They look super intricate!”

Blinking, it took a moment for Yusuke to respond. He hadn’t been prepared at all for the princess to talk to him, never mind barrage him with comments and questions. “I did. They meet your approval, then?”

She nodded vigorously. “No doubt about it!” She looked about to continue, but was cut off by a quiet clearing of the throat on her other side.

The king met his eyes when he turned. Yusuke felt his cheeks burn again, embarrassment dropping his gaze.

“Come on, kid, don’t be shy now.”

Flushing harder at the gruff words, Yusuke forced himself to look the king in the face again.

“There we go.” The king gave him a once over. “Magic, huh?”

Yusuke just nodded, mute.

“Well. As long as the kid’s happy.”

A hand slipped into Yusuke’s at the same time as Akira spoke from behind him. “The kid’s happy, but he’d be happier if he got a chance to feed his husband at the feast for their wedding trials.”

Scoffing, the king leaned back in his chair. He waved a hand at them, but Yusuke could have sworn he was smiling as he turned down to the princess.

He followed the gentle tug on his hand and was met with a bright grin. Akira bent his head towards the platters on the table before him, an eyebrow lifted in question. Yusuke blinked as he realized that the prince had waited to eat until he'd arrived, Akira's plate as pristine as the others' plates full. Warmth flooded through Yusuke, deep from his chest and up across his cheeks. Akira was so sweet to wait for him, even though he'd barely told him anything. His prince was just...so kind and thoughtful.

Showing himself tonight was the right decision. He was sure, even as the fretful fear lingered in the back of his mind. It was just nerves, and he pushed it away as Akira served them.

As they ate, Yusuke watched the court as they tried to surreptitiously watch him, gossiping the entire time. Every so often, Akira would lean in to share an anecdote about one person or some trivia about another. It was the most pleasant meal Yusuke had ever had. Musicians played in the background, not yet music for dancing but just to keep the mood bright and the wine flowing. Slowly, the platters cleared of food, and the music shifted to something livelier.

"Would you care to dance?"

Yusuke glanced at Akira, then back to where the room was clearing to reveal an open ring. The musicians had settled into something with a slow, strong beat accompanied by dancing trills and playful phrases. Deliberate and energetic, all at once.

It wasn’t _his_ song, but it was music, and he could make it work.

"Yes," Yusuke decided. "Do we just..?"

Grinning, Akira pulled him out of his chair and over to the open space. "First come, first serve. Besides, this _is_ for _our_ wedding."

"True." Yusuke hummed a few bars along with the musicians, listening for how the music breathed, where it repeated. Akira stood facing him, watching him for the sign to start.

The court around them grew quiet, the music taking over. He met Akira's eyes, saw him match his inhale, and moved.

Yusuke had never danced with another person before. The garden was devoid of life besides himself and Madarame, and Madarame would never lower himself to frolicking along the glittering paths. But every time he reached out, Akira was there reaching back. Every time he spun, Akira was there to catch him. Every time he turned, Akira was grinning back at him.

Laughing, he couldn't help the gleeful notes he sang into the music, into their dance. Around them, he could feel the room react, people gasping and murmuring as the moonlight gave them a lake to skim across, their feet sending delicate ripples across its surface. Shifting feathers joined the melody as the painted swans took flight from the ceiling to circle them, dipping their wings in the water to send dazzling droplets through the air. Barking laughter nipped at their ankles when they drew close to the edge, carved foxes from the statues rolling around and jumping as they chattered.

Too soon, the music ended, the musicians dropping out one by one until only the steady drum remained. The swans and foxes returned to their perches, the moon gleaming only on polished floor. Yusuke found himself wrapped close to his prince, their foreheads resting against each other and Akira's slivered eyes nearly too close to focus on. Contentment ran so deep through Yusuke's chest it nearly brought him to tears, and he dipped to catch his prince's lips through the last notes of his song. His lips were warm and soft, and Yusuke felt safe in his arms. They swayed, letting their lips brush once, twice more as even the drum faded.

A small body crashed into their sides, nearly knocking them over, as applause rang through the room. The princess was chattering faster than Yusuke could understand, just the occasional word slipping through to detail her enjoyment of their dance. Bewildered, he dropped a couple of awkward pats in her head, hoping that would calm her down. It didn't, but she did finally release the two of them from her grasp. She zoomed off to the king, seemingly to chatter _his_ ear off about the dance.

Akira chuckled, hand settling low on Yusuke's spine to guide him back to their table. He settled Yusuke into his seat with more care than if he'd been made of glass, and another honey burst of contentment swept through Yusuke. Aware of the people watching them, Yusuke pulled him close for another kiss. Akira hummed into it, pressing closer before leaning back again.

"I'll be right back," he murmured, the words brushing Yusuke's face.

Warm, and happy, and in love, Yusuke nodded his acceptance, smiling into the kiss he got in return.

He'd never had a more perfect night.

* * *

The grounds were nearly silent as Akira crossed through them, the only sounds the distant merriment of the banquet and the quiet noises of the night. His footsteps were strangely loud and flat against the pavestones, and he made an effort to silence them. Slipping from shadow to shadow, Akira crept back towards his room.

He’d known Yusuke was a magic frog, but he hadn’t realized he was _cursed_. Animal by day and human by night was a common enough curse in the kingdom’s legends. Akira could almost kick himself for not thinking of it.

But why hadn’t Yusuke told him? Akira paused, halfway up one of the many spiral staircases. Did he not trust him? Yusuke had to know he’d do anything he asked. Or, that was the issue, wasn’t it? The wave of realization pushed him to race up the rest of the stairs. There were a number of legends where the one cursed couldn’t speak of their curse, relying on those around them to figure it out and break the spell.

Determination bolstered him as he flung his door open. He’d break the curse over Yusuke, over his _husband_ , set him free from whatever spell forced him to take the form of a frog every sunrise.

Stepping into his chambers, Akira cast a glance over the room. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he had a feeling there was _something_.

A shaft of moonlight caught his eye. He rounded the table, following its path to the floor.

A frog skin sprawled limp against the stone.

Heart in his throat, Akira picked it up. It gleamed in the silvered light, greens and blues nearly indistinguishable from each other. The mask-like marking on the face was ghost bright as it reflected the moon. Akira ran his thumb along the edge of that familiar mark. Could he really destroy this? Yusuke had taken such pains before to ensure Akira didn’t realize. Maybe he should talk to Yusuke before he did anything?

Lightning crashed outside the window. Akira startled; lost in thought, he hadn’t realized how the night had darkened. He needed to get back before rain fell.

He sent one last glance at the frog skin in his hand, then turned to the smouldering fireplace.

* * *

Something was wrong. Yusuke’s heart tripped rabbit-quick in his throat, all his senses on high alert. His skin felt too small, like the breath before he took his true form.

Something was _wrong_. He could barely breathe through the building panic choking his lungs. Where was Akira? Yusuke threw a frantic glance around the hall. Gone. Akira was still _gone_. Gasping something he hoped sounded like an excuse, Yusuke pushed himself from the table. Stumbling, he shoved his way outside.

The wind howled for him. Thunder rumbled mournfully before a flash blinded him. Tripping, he let the wind push him forwards. He couldn’t think through that terrified voice from before shrilly shrieking ‘danger!’

He blinked and was in Akira’s room. Dizzy, he caught the flickering of the fire in the darkness, Akira’s shadowed silhouette before it.

And something burning in the fire.

“What…” Yusuke croaked past a throat filled with fear sharp as glass shards. “What did you _do?_ ”

* * *

Akira was frozen. The heat of the fire at his back felt cold as ice, cold as Yusuke looked, shivering and wet. The storm raged outside, thunder and lighting making each _pop_ of the fire louder.

“Yusuke… I…” His words were just as frozen as he.

Graceless, Yusuke lurched forward, pushed past him to collapse on the hearth. His hand reached towards the flames, towards the nearly gone frog skin. Akira jumped to stop him, to prevent him from burning himself, but Yusuke had already pulled singed fingertips back, curling his hand to his chest like he didn’t know if his fingers or heart hurt worse. His blue glove was bright against the dark material, the skin revealed by the hungry fire even brighter.

Falling to his knees, Akira reached for him. Yusuke turned haunted eyes to meet his worried gaze, firelight flickering against the trails of tears down his face.

“You…” Akira started, fading under the weight of Yusuke’s despair. “You were cursed. I thought…”

Yusuke swallowed thickly, nodding numbly. “I-I was. But now…”

Fear, thick and hot, swamped Akira. “Now? Yusuke, what-”

“Why didn’t you just wait!” Yusuke gasped. “I would have told you! All you needed to do was wait! And now…” Sobs stole his breath, his hand clutching tighter to his chest as he curled over himself protectively. “Now you’ve done _this_.”

A flash of white lightning and crash of thunder unlike the others shattered the window. Wind whipped its way inside, rain cutting his cheeks as it ripped by. Akira felt himself flinch away, reached for Yusuke to drag him further into his chambers, where they could escape the storm.

He wasn’t there.

Akira whipped around, freezing once more as he caught sight of his husband. Yusuke was caught in the spiraling wind, lifted off the ground as it pulled him towards the window.

“Yusuke!”

Panicked grey eyes met his as Yusuke tried to tear his way free. Desperate, Akira tried to reach him, tried to grab him and pull him safely closer, but each step he took caused the wind to howl harsher and push him back two.

“Akira!” Yusuke’s voice was nearly lost in the storm. “The garden! Come-come find me in the garden!”

Forced to stay where he stood, forced to watch Yusuke be swept out the window and out of sight, all Akira could do was hope Yusuke heard him promise.

He was the reason Yusuke was in this mess. It was up to him to get him back out.

* * *

Akira rode. He rode harder and longer than he had ever ridden before, crossing more land than he’d known was in the country. And still he didn’t reach the garden.

He would have sworn that the garden hadn’t been this far away, but he knew what he was dealing with now, and there was no fated arrow to guide him true this time. But he pressed on. He’d failed his husband once already; he would _not_ fail Yusuke again.

Days slipped past, the seasons changing, snow slowing his journey. His horse grew tired and sick, and he was forced to pay for a lone farm he passed to take her in if he didn’t want to ride her to her death. It wasn’t her fault they were in this mess. Setting off with just his boots to protect him from the ice was a hardship he would gladly take to keep moving towards Yusuke. They were hardy shoes; they’d protect him for a while.

And, for a while, they did. Akira marched forward until his soles wore through, until the snow melted and he walked in shoes more hole than leather on greening grass waking from winter’s clutches. He walked until he was sure he’d left his country far behind, only his riding clothes and his bow and arrow to show where he was from.

Collapsing by a river, Akira dipped his hand in for quick gulps of clear water. He wouldn’t stop, not until he found Yusuke, but he had no idea where he was going anymore. Rustling shook the bushes behind him. Wary, he sat back from the river, ready to bolt or fight as needed.

An old man parted the leaves. Blinking, Akira watched as the man grinned, wider than any man he’d seen before. His nose was long and crooked, ears _off_ in a way Akira couldn’t quite figure out through his tufts of white hair. He settled on a nearby stone, arms and legs akimbo like a sprawling spider. Still grinning, he beckoned for Akira to come closer.

Akira crept forward, wary but willing to listen. What if this was the guide he so desperately needed? He couldn’t afford to insult him, not if he wanted to find Yusuke. He settled on the grass as the man folded his hands before his face, _still_ grinning.

“Good day, young prince.” His voice was high and wispy, the words dragging out oddly from behind long hands folded before his face.

“Good day.” Akira dipped into a half bow from the ground, not caring how silly it might look.

“You’ve travelled far - and much faster than expected.” The grin didn’t disappear, even as he talked. Akira resolved to ignore it. “Tell me, prince: what made you think you could burn the frog skin? It wasn’t yours. You had no right to destroy it.”

Humiliated regret swelled in his throat, and Akira almost looked away in shame. Steeling himself, he instead breathed, let it sit with him until he could swallow it. The man’s grin widened, a spark of pleased approval glinting in his eye.

“I know. Yusuke had asked for my trust, and I broke it.” Akira let his determination hold him tall and steady, voice unwavering. “But I know my mistake now, and I _will_ undo the damage I’ve wrought, even if it takes me the rest of my life to find him.”

The man hummed, hands unfolding and folding again. His smile ticked wider with each second that passed, but Akira didn’t fold. Either this man would help him or he wouldn’t, but Akira wouldn’t back down. Not if this was his chance to find his husband. He _would_ spend the rest of his life searching for Yusuke if he had to, but he’d much rather find him sooner rather than later.

“Well, your spirit certainly burns bright.” He gestured towards the bushes behind him. A rustle, and a small, mostly black cat pushed its way through, standing on its hind legs to brush the leaves from its fur. A yellow scarf wrapped cutely around its neck. “Morgana can help you. He’ll guide you to the garden you seek...if you trust him to lead you there.”

The cat shook himself, then bolted away. Scrambling, Akira chased after him.

“Thank you!” He shouted behind him, careful to keep one eye on Morgana darting in and out of sun spots between the trees.

High pitched laughter followed him as he ran, fading just slowly enough to unsettle. Akira shook his head. He needed to focus on not tripping over his own feet as Morgana got ever further ahead. These woods were dangerous, full of beasts perfectly willing to eat a prince with a broken leg.

Grunts and growls came from ahead, and Akira skidded to a stop right as the two of them crashed into a clearing. Two young brown bears were tussling, barely a stone’s throw in front of him. They broke apart to watch him, and he prepared an arrow, heart hammering.

“Whoa! Wait just a minute!” One of the bears cried. “Don’t effin’ _shoot_ us!”

Akira lowered his bow, just enough to show he was listening. Talking bears was...new, but he’d married a talking frog, so who was he to say what was possible anymore?

“Yeah, come on, we weren’t gonna go after you or anything,” the other chimed in. It was slightly smaller than the other, but Akira was sure it could still easily snap him in half if it wanted to. “Hey! How about this? You don’t shoot us, and we’ll come help you later?”

The first bear looked at the second, and even Akira could see how incredulous it looked. “I don’t wanna help someone who almost shot us!” It, loudly, whispered.

Lowering his bow entirely, Akira nodded at the bears. He wouldn’t have shot anyway at this point, but he’d take a deal with a couple of bears. Who knew how it might help?

“Awesome!” The second bear chirped. “Bye, then!”

Akira blinked, realizing Morgana had nearly made it to the other side of the clearing with a burst of panic. Cursing, he gave chase, leaving the bears to bicker behind him.

He’d barely made it beyond the treeline before another clearing opened up to show two wolves, one larger, older than the other but both watching him intently. Slowly, he raised his bow.

“Stop,” the older wolf commanded. “You dare threaten us?”

“Sis!” The younger yipped, skittering a couple steps closer to her.

“Either shoot us or don’t,” she said, standing slowly to guard the smaller wolf. “But if you don’t, I’ll give you my assistance at a later time.”

First the bears, and now the wolves? Akira lowered his bow, nodding his acceptance. How a couple bears and a wolf would help him, he had no idea, but he wasn’t going to reject the offers. He could see a pattern when presented one, and couldn’t help but wonder if more animals would join.

Morgana has nearly crossed the clearing again. Skirting the watchful wolves, he continued his chase.

Again, he’d made it only a handful of strides into the woods before the scree-ing of a falcon through the air above him caught his ear. He followed its swoop with his arrow head, waiting for a clear shot.

“No, wait!” The falcon called.

A grin nearly broke free. Looks like he’d called it right.

“Don’t shoot me! I’m just looking for a place to nest, please!”

Amicably, Akira let the bow fall loose to his side, watching as the falcon did a couple more swoops before landing on a bough above him.

“Thank you!” It chirped. “You’re so kind. How would you like me to repay you?”

It wasn’t just going to offer a favor? The others just had, and it felt awkward to request one for something as simple as not shooting an arrow he wasn’t going to anyway.

The falcon puffed up with another chirp, making it a brown ball of fluff. “I know! I can come help you later, if that would work?”

Accepting with a nod, Akira passed under the bough to where Morgana was scampering over a pile of fallen trees. He had two bears, a wolf, and now a falcon.

And still no idea how they’d help him later.

Shrugging to himself, he slid down the other side of the trees, landing in a pile of soft ferns. Morgana trotted ahead, tail flicking as he pounced from pile of leaves to stack of mushrooms to dancing sunlight. Slowly, the sounds of the forest changed around him, bird calls morphing into frog and the insects’ buzz settling into a different tune. The sound of bubbling water caught Akira’s ear.

A few more steps and he could see why. A gentle river twined its way across the forest floor, its bed full of pebbles smoothed from the current. Morgana had paused to lap from its shimmering surface downstream, and Akira bent down for a drink, grateful for the reprieve.

And got a faceful of water splashed at him. Sputtering, he reeled back, shaking his head. When he blinked his eyes free of the water, a large fish was poking its head out at him.

“Yo kid, give me a hand and I’ll come help ya out eventually.”

Akira leaned forward, agreeing with a brief nod. The fish nodded back, then darted under the water and upstream. Akira followed it as the river went over a slight hill, realizing the issue as soon as he crested.

A little fish was flopping on the bank, gulping at the air and unable to find its way back into the water.

Scurrying the last few paces, Akira scooped it up and gently placed it back in the river. The larger fish hovered worriedly as the little one gasped on the river floor, and Akira found himself holding his breath in empathetic concern. Then, in a flash of silver, the little fish was up and squishing itself against the larger fish’s side. Smiling, he breathed a relieved sigh.

The larger fish turned to him and nodded, then they were both gone with another flash of sunlight on silver scales.

Wiping his hands on his trousers, Akira stood and made his way back to Morgana. The cat sat up to lick his whiskers dry and turned to continue their chase through the forest. Akira picked up his pace, following as they left the river behind them. 

Shadows reached for him more now, the wind sending the branches dancing so that he could barely tell where his feet were landing. He kept track of Morgana ahead of him less from the ability to see him and more by the flashes of white fur and yellow fabric as he slunk through the spotty patches of weak light. Tangled bushes gathered in scattered bunches that sank into the darkness as he ran past.

“Hey, careful!”

Akira froze, one foot not quite on the ground yet. A little snake slithered from under his raised shoe.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going? You almost stepped on me!” It hissed, curling up indignantly.

“I apologize.” He crouched down to face the snake better. “I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” it muttered.

“Do you want me to move you somewhere safer? Those bushes over there look like their roots would make a good nest.” Akira nearly held his breath after the offer. Would this little snake keep up the pattern? He had two bears, a wolf, a falcon, and a fish so far, so why not a freshly hatched snake? It even still had its egg tooth.

“...sure,” the little snake said, winding itself tighter, then loosening abruptly.

Careful, Akira picked it up, walking the couple of steps needed to reach the bushes. He crouched, tilting his hand to let the hatchling slide onto the dirt. It turned to slither away, and Akira let out a slow breath. Guess it wasn’t-

“Hey!” A tiny voice called. “Uh, thanks! I owe you, ‘kay?”

Grinning, Akira nodded, hearing one last little rustle as the snake was lost to the leaves.

Make that: two bears, a wolf, a falcon, a fish, and a tiny little hatchling snake.

Morgana was waiting for him, daintily washing his paws in a patch of sunlight. When Akira reached him, he glanced up, then twisted away to bounce from bush to bush, the crunch of leaves guiding him on.

The trees thinned out around them until only dusty hills remained. Morgana trotted lazily in front of him, and Akira followed as he made his way up the hill before them.

As they crested, Akira caught sight of the building awaiting their arrival.

It was isolated, trees on the far side reaching for it but much too distant to touch the stone of its walls. It reminded him of the castle dungeons somehow. Something about the grey of the stone and the rough finishing, even as it looked nothing like the wet halls under the castle. As he got closer, it started to resolve itself into a house, firelight flickering from under the door as he climbed the stairs. Motion to his side caught his eye, and he watched as Morgana hopped onto one of the windowsills, blinking at him for a long second before he slipped through the window.

Had the window...opened and closed just for him? Shaking his head, Akira raised a hand to knock on the door. Before he could make contact, it swung open.

“Finally! You’re late, you know!”

“Ah, you’re here, welcome.”

Hand still in the air, Akira blinked at the two girls before him. Both dressed in identical blue outfits, one had braids while the other had a set of buns. Braids stepped aside just as Buns grabbed his shirt and tugged him inside.

The door slammed shut behind him. Tripping over himself, Akira fell into the chair Buns shoved him at. Light flashed, and when he blinked the spots out of his vision, there was only one girl in front of him, hair long and pulled out of her face by a butterfly hairband.

“Greetings.” She bowed, and Akira realized she was holding a tome nearly as large as herself. “My name is Lavenza, and those were Caroline and Justine that met you at the door. I believe my master sent you?”

“He said Morgana would lead me to the garden,” he hedged.

Humming, Lavenza flipped through the book, occasionally stopping to run a finger down this or that page. The _snap_ of the book startled him as she sharply closed it, apparently having found what she was looking for. Another bright flash, and Justine and Caroline were before him again.

He turned to watch Braids - Justine? - slip out a back door, jumping as a slim staff whacked into the side of his chair.

“Hey, idiot!” Buns - must be Caroline - snapped. “Pay attention, I’m about to tell you how to rescue your husband.”

Akira leaned forward, all his focus now on the slight girl in front of him.

“Your dumb action put him back in the garden of Madarame, only this time without the enchantment his mom put on him to keep him safe from that geezer’s magic. So now the only way to him is through Madarame!”

“But you said he had magic..?” Akira could fight many things. Magic was...not one of them. And he’d already proven once that his magical instincts were not the best.

Scoffing, Caroline rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t say you had to _fight_ him. Madarame’s death is at the tip of an enchanted needle. Get the needle, and you’ve got Madarame.”

“Where’s the needle?”

“Ah, well…” Caroline flushed, obviously not prepared with the answer.

“It lies in an egg. The egg is in a duck, which is in the belly of a hare, and the hare inside a chest. The chest is in the arms of an oak in a section of the forest warded against those intending to do Madarame harm.” A soft voice replied from the back of the room. Akira turned to see Justine standing just inside the doorway, holding what appeared to be reins. “Come.”

Before Akira could even stand, Caroline whipped her staff at the other side of his chair. “You heard her! Get moving!”

He hurried up and over to where Justine waited, Caroline quick on his heels. They were helping, so he wouldn’t complain. Out loud, at least.

Justine turned to lead the way out the door, and Akira stepped out after her. Immediately, he came face to face with a great black horse. It snorted at him when he froze, seemingly laughing. A blood red bridle framed its face. Akira reached out to let it snuffle at his palm, running the other down its massive neck. Black feathers dotted its midnight mane, plaited into small braids here and there and distinguishable only by texture. A saddle matching the bridle sat intimidatingly high behind the horse’s shoulders. A feather saddle blanket covered its ribs.

Akira nearly fell as the blanket moved, revealing itself to be two massive _wings_.

"His name's Arsene," Caroline barked from behind him. "He'll get you where you need to go."

"Arsene is curious," Justine hummed, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. "He has a spirit of rebellion strong enough to break through nearly any enchantment. But…"

"But?"

Justine put her clipboard down and Akira found himself at the center of two heavy, golden stares. "But only if you dedicate your _whole_ self to fighting with him."

"Any hesitation means you're dead! You got that, princey?"

For a second, Akira felt himself waver. If he failed, if he _died_ , his family would never know. Futaba would never forgive him for disappearing without a word to her in the middle of the night. Sojiro would be forced to find another heir or put Futaba on the spot.

He'd said he would spend the rest of his life searching for Yusuke. Resolute, steel slipping down his spine, he nodded at the twins. Arsene whickered a smug laugh and dropped into a low bow. Deft motions saw Akira in his saddle, reins clasped loosely in his hands and sitting taller than any horse he'd ridden before. Dark wings rose and fell on either side of him, Arsene dancing a little circle as he tested Akira's weight.

"Good luck," Justine called.

"Yeah," Caroline huffed, bouncing her staff against her palm. "Don't mess this up!"

Nodding, Akira nudged Arsene forward. Arsene sent him a prideful glance, shook his head, and took off.

* * *

Yusuke woke surrounded by cold stone. He laid on a stone bed, stone walls enclosing him on three sides while stone bars caged him on the fourth. A small stone table with a small stone stool were the only other occupants of his cell. It was cold, and damp, and nothing at all like the welcoming palace he'd lived in with his prince these last few days.

Shivering, he sat up, one hand absently pulling his no longer white cloak closer to his body. This wasn't the garden, but the stale air still felt like Madarame's magic. In his castle, then. He'd never seen the dungeon, but it was sensible that there would be one.

Footsteps and murmurs echoed from the hall outside his cell, and Yusuke found himself straining his hearing to catch at the words. It was…Madarame? Yes, he'd heard that voice enough to recognize it after a few words, even as faded and distorted as it was from the distance. Something about meddling witches and stupid princes?

Breath catching, Yusuke scrambled from the bed to press up against the bars. Madarame was talking about a prince getting in over his head. Akira? He'd told Akira to come find him, to come save him from the cursed garden again, but he'd been half afraid that Akira would just wipe his hands of him. But no, Akira was coming for him.

Cold anger swept through his relief. He'd been too scared to consider what Akira had done in the moment, but now? How _dare_ Akira have burned his skin.

Cruel laughter broke into his thoughts. Akira was on his way, it seemed, though Madarame cackled gleefully that he charged towards his death.

Yusuke returned to his stone bed, sitting primly against the edge. Akira better not die; he _owed_ it to Yusuke to rescue him. And once he had, Yusuke would have words for him about respect and trust and not touching things that didn't belong to you. Akira could make it up to him for the rest of his life, once they had returned to their palace.

For now, all he had to do was endure.

* * *

Laughter broke from Akira's throat as their gallop shifted into flight, wind flinging his hair around and Arsene's mane into his face. The forest turned into a green blur below them, broken by the occasional rocky cliff or body of water. He rode for hours and just seconds, time warping uncertainly around him as Arsene's wings kept a steady beat onward. Brisk air slowly thickened, unnoticed until Akira found himself heaving gasps, their path forward slowed and a distorted miasma of colors shimmering in the air just out of his line of sight.

The ward.

Akira grit his teeth and leaned into Arsene. Dedicate his whole self, Justine had said. He didn't know how to do that. But, pushing himself closer to Arsene's straining neck, he knew Arsene _would_ get them through. He threw all his will into staying seated as the ward tried to push them back, felt the great bellows of Arsene's lungs between his thighs and matched his own breathing to that steady, heaving pace. He'd traveled for seasons to get here, had made deals with animals and was risking his very life. This ward would _not_ stop him.

And, like a crystal shattering, they broke through.

Arsene threw his head up with a victorious whinny, charging past the shreds of magic. Ahead, Akira could see a massive oak standing alone, its wide boughs grandiose and separated by clear green fields from the forest on one side with a darkly glittering lake lapping nearby on its other. Spiraling above it, there was no glimpse of the chest. Arsene dipped lower with each pass, and motion in the shadows of the oak caught Akira's eye.

A dragon laid in wait, its dual heads watching him with dangerous intent. Akira watched as the head decorated with white and red scales nodded at them, twisting to watch them approach. Just as he dismissed it to focus on the other head, it sighed sparkles and golden light so bright Akira had to close his eyes against it. Evading with an affronted huff, Arsene continued his circles closer. They nearly brushed gleaming emerald grass, and the dark-scaled head gave him a malevolent grin full of wicked, serrated teeth. It huffed magic so dark it left a hole in the colors of the world as it passed at them. Akira felt Arsene brace, and he grabbed his bow and arrow.

The cloud hit, but Arsene barely slowed. Akira aimed. His arrow sank into the roof of the white head's mouth as it snapped forwards to bite him. Screaming, it reared back. Drawing another arrow, Akira twisted in his seat to send it flying at the dark head's eye. The beast crushed it between its teeth, but Akira had already turned to send another down the throat of the white head. Gurgling, it whipped back and forth, spewing more of that golden magic.

Arsene launched them into the air, out of range of the erratic bursts. The dark head snarled at its partner, clearly displeased as it got caught in the sparkling cloud. Akira aimed once more, waiting for an opening in their squabbling.

He fired, and the white head dropped, an arrow lodged deep in its eye.

Roaring, the dark head snapped to focus on Akira, a madly murderous gleam in its eyes. Akira reached for another arrow. Two shafts met his fingertips. He drew one with a slow breath out. The head threw black magic at them. Arsene danced out of its way. Not yet. It reared back, inhaling what Akira was sure was to be an impossible to dodge spell. He watched as it eyed him, triumphant victory already glittering in its gaze. It opened its mouth.

Akira fired.

* * *

A shrill screech pulled Yusuke from his meandering meditation.

"How dare he!"

Stomping steps hurried down the hall, and Yusuke met Madarame's furious gaze with a calm face.

"Yusuke," the wizard crooned, slipping into his cell as if the bars didn't even exist. "Yusuke, I've protected you all these long years, and now I'm under threat. Won't you give me-"

"No." His voice was hard, cold and unforgiving as the stone Madarame had trapped him in. "You'll get none of my years, and as soon as Akira gets here, I _will_ escape you."

Snarling, Madarame stepped forward to corner him on the bed. "Of course not, you disrespectful whelp. Just like your ungrateful mother."

Yusuke froze, halfway through trying to slip out of being trapped. "My mother?"

"A talented druid, she came to me one day, saying she had learned of my garden and wanted to study it before she died. I let her, of course, but then she didn't want to pay the price."

"What was the price?" Yusuke croaked, throat tight with the warring desires to know more of his mother and to tell Madarame to stop.

Grinning cruelly, Madarame grabbed Yusuke's wrist in a harsh grasp, pulling him close. "You."

Numbly, Yusuke shook his head. "No…"

"Oh, yes," Madarame cackled. "The price to study the glittering lifeless garden is _life_. And what could be more precious, more potent, than that of a newborn babe's? A child with druid magic in his blood, even. I certainly didn't have a use for _her_ fading light." He shoved Yusuke, knocking him down onto the stone bed. "But she cheated," he hissed, spittle dotting Yusuke's face. "She enchanted you against me with the last of her life. When I tried to take what was rightfully mine, you changed into a stupid little _frog_. One immune to all magics! That frog skin protected you even once you'd changed back."

"That's why you always asked for my life…" Yusuke murmured. "The only way you could take it was if I gave it freely." Fear bolted through his heart. "But what is stopping you from stealing it now?"

Madarame bared his teeth. "The coarse way that stupid prince destroyed the skin didn't break the spell entirely. I still can't take your life against your wishes. But," he leaned back, suddenly calm and cheerful, "I can make sure that if I can't have you, neither can he."

Yusuke scrambled back, but he couldn't escape Madarame's grasp. "No, no please…"

Gold crept along his skin, locking his wrist. It dug past his skin, immobilizing muscle and gilding bone. Madarame let go, watching smugly as the gold raced up his arm. Yusuke had just enough time to close his eyes, betrayed and scared and, more than anything, desperately heartbroken that his dreams of a life with Akira were soon to be as dead as Madarame's garden.

* * *

Percussive silence shook the field as the dark head fell, an arrow through the roof of its mouth and out the skull.

Panting, Akira let Arsene bring them to the grass. The dragon was still, and something near regret welled in Akira for killing such an awful beast as it. No doubt it would have been impossible to tame, but he would have liked to try anyway, he thought. Shaking himself, he slid from Arsene's back. No use mourning beasts that tried to kill him, that stood in his way to his husband.

Now on the ground, under the boughs of the oak, the chest was plainly visible. It rested in chains far above his head, hanging from the lowest branches. He looked back at Arsene - maybe he'd help him reach? - only for the horse to snort at him and go back to grazing. Obviously he had no interest in solving how to get the chest down. Half-heartedly, Akira shoved at the oak's broad trunk.

"You need a paw?"

Jumping like a startled cat, Akira spun around. The two bears were loping out of the forest towards him.

"Oh, wow, that's the biggest tree I've ever seen!" The slightly smaller bear gaped, rising onto two feet to lean back.

"Eh, it's alright. Bet I can get that chest down without you." The larger bear put its paws up on the trunk and gave it a shove, grunting as the leaves barely rustled.

"Uh huh, nice try." It - she? Now that Akira was actually listening, the smaller bear almost sounded feminine - braced against the tree next to the other. "Are you ready?"

"Good to go."

With a roared, "One, two, three!" The bears shoved the tree. The old wood groaned and roots snapped as, slowly, the oak was toppled. The chest broke against the ground as the oak crashed down, and Akira scrabbled for his last arrow as a hare darted from the debris.

A blur of grey raced past him. The sun glinted off white teeth as the older wolf caught the hare. A duck exploded up into the air. Akira tried to aim, but a screech and flash of brown feathers stopped him. The falcon caught the duck, and an egg fell out of it. Scrambling over the oak's trunk, Akira tried to catch it, but the egg slipped just out of his fingertips, tumbling and rolling its way towards the lake. Cursing, he chased it, throwing himself down and forwards just too late to stop the lake from whisking it away to its depths.

"No!" Akira cried. "No, no, what am I supposed to do now…" He dragged his hands over his face. Think, Akira, think… But there just wasn't any way for him to find a single egg at the bottom of a vast lake.

A nudge on his knee made him drop his hands. The fish he'd saved pushed up the shallows again, the egg before it.

"Thank you," he breathed, picking the egg up. The little fish flicked its tail playfully at him, then darted away.

Akira carefully cracked the egg against a stone on the shore.

The stone broke.

"What…" He blinked at the cracked stone, then at the unblemished egg. He tapped the egg against a different rock, harder this time, only to watch in disbelief as that rock broke too, and the egg remained pristine. Laughing incredulously, he slammed it down against the ground, only to pull it back unharmed with an egg-shaped indentation of sand in the pebbles. He couldn't get inside the egg.

"You're hopeless, you know."

Blinking, Akira looked up. The little snake slithered out of the grass onto the shore.

"Don't worry, I'll help you out." It curled up next to his hand, waiting for him to move out of its way. He let the egg go, careful to make sure it didn't roll away. The little snake tapped the shell with the egg tooth it still had from hatching, and Akira watched the shell shatter. "There you go!" The snake nearly chirped, then turned to slither away.

Sparkling among the egg shards and rocks was a silver needle.

Akira reached for it, careful not to prick himself. It was so delicate; he couldn't understand how it could have Madarame's death at its tip.

A dark shadow swooped down at him, and only his instincts had him rolling out of the way of knife-like talons in time to save his life.

A monstrous bird circled above him; Madarame come to defend himself from the prince's efforts.

But Akira still didn't know how to kill him. He had the needle, but the only other things he had were his bow and arrow.

Pausing, he felt an idea hit him. Akira raced for Arsene, hoping he didn't trip as he focused on using the needle to carve a hollow in the tip of his arrow.

Arsene was waiting for him, and they took to the air as soon as Akira's feet were in his stirrups. Careful, Akira threaded the needle into the space he'd carved, and drew the arrow.

Madarame cawed...and turned to flee.

Akira took aim as Arsene pursued Madarame. He only had the one shot. Yusuke's freedom hung in the balance, and if he missed, then Yusuke would be out of his reach forever. He drew the arrow back, breathed a slow breath out, and let it fly.

Madarame screamed as it hit. Akira watched, stunned, as the great bird crumpled into a man, then a skeleton, and finally dust.

Arsene danced under him, and Akira's attention was knocked down to where Arsene was landing them. He'd made it to the garden again.

Scrambling off Arsene's back, he launched himself into the garden depths. There were the same emerald bushes, ruby ladybugs and golden fawns catching the sunlight as he passed. The lake was just ahead, he knew it. And where the lake was, Yusuke would be waiting, he was sure.

He turned the last corner of the path.

"No…" he breathed.

Yusuke was there, at the edge of the water just like he had been when they'd met. But instead of a little frog, or even the young man he'd met at the ball, there was a golden statue. Akira found himself on his knees next to the statue of his husband, hands hovering over his frozen, terrified expression. Yusuke's knees were pulled up unevenly, one hand outstretched and the other fisted over his heart. A single sapphire tear was caught on his cheek below delicate golden lashes.

A sob caught in Akira's throat. "No, Yusuke, my love…" He curled one hand around Yusuke's on his chest, gently laying the other on his cheek. "Please," he breathed, "please come back to me." Akira rested his forehead against Yusuke's, eyes falling shut against the tears welling. "I don't care how, come back as a frog all the time, that's fine, just _please_ , Yusuke, please don't leave me like this."

A breath against his lips made Akira pull away. He watched, hope crowding the sorrow in his chest, as the golden hue over Yusuke slowly faded, gave way to pale skin and dark clothes.

Yusuke's eyes fluttered open. "Akira..?"

Laughing wetly, Akira threw himself forward, arms wrapping around his husband as he pressed their lips together. Yusuke kissed him back, and Akira hiccupped a grateful noise as the warmth of his husband's body leached into his own.

Eventually, he pulled back, leaning his forehead on his husband's again. He could barely focus on Yusuke's face this close, but that was fine. He could see the grey of his eyes looking back at him, could see the exact placement of every dark eyelash when Yusuke blinked.

"You saved me."

"I'm so sorry."

They spoke at the same time, and took a moment to laugh at themselves when they realized.

"You should be sorry," Yusuke murmured. "While I still love you, as soon as I'm done being relieved that you saved me, I shall be _quite_ cross with you."

"I know," Akira laughed a shamed chuckle. "I shouldn't have touched your frog skin without your permission, never mind burned it. I should have trusted that you'd come to me when you were ready. I just…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. I was stupid and inconsiderate, and I _promise_ you that I'll do better."

Humming, Yusuke considered his words. He nodded decisively and leaned forward to steal a kiss. "I'll hold you to it, husband. But now," he said, standing, "let us see how much of Madarame's magic I can undo."

Akira took his offered hand, standing next to his husband to survey the garden.

Soft leaves and the rustle of animals wandering met him. Yusuke was apparently as startled as he, neither of them moving as they watched a fawn poke its head out of the bushes, toddling across the path and disappearing into the trees on the other side.

Hands clasped, the two of them started down the path, marveling at the life that had overtaken the cold jewels while they had been distracted with each other. Fat, fuzzy bees buzzed from bright flower to bright flower, and the call of birds was a constant music in the background. Yusuke hummed along to it, and Akira watched as animal after animal poked its head out to greet them before ducking back into the brush.

Soon enough, they'd reached the end of the path, where Arsene was patiently waiting for them. Yusuke sent Akira a startled glance, but all the response he had was a shrug and a smile. Shaking his head in amused resignation, Yusuke let him help him onto Arsene, scooting close to Akira's back once he'd swung himself up. Akira smiled to himself as he felt Yusuke wrap his arms around his stomach, and he gently nudged Arsene forward. He'd rescued his husband and they'd broken Madarame's curse on the garden. It was time to go home.

And so they did, to a life full of laughter and frustration and mistakes and forgiveness and, most of all, full of love.


End file.
